


Heart of Gold

by ifinkufreaky



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Drabbles, F/M, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 15:13:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18317852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifinkufreaky/pseuds/ifinkufreaky
Summary: Finan seems like such the stalwart, caring, rescuer type to me. Here, have a few short stories exploring that vibe.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from a prompt for the line "please, just touch me."

 

Finan had become your savior. Your guardian angel. There was no denying it, as he swooped you up from the wreckage of the Danes’ raid, and tended to your wound on the long journey to go join the only family you had left now.

Lord Uhtred’s band of warriors had arrived just in time to save you, but not many of the others from your little village. When you heard that they were traveling toward the town where your mother was from, where you still had people who would take you in, you begged him and his sworn men to let you come along. To keep a young woman safe on the road. Finan, your angel, had pulled you up from your knees and promised to “escort you” as if you were a lady of the finest breeding. One look into his warm brown eyes and you knew this was a man you could trust.

The wound in your flank made it more difficult to travel along with them than you had thought. You sniffled through the pain and shuffled along, trying hard not to slow these fighting men down. You would hate for them to decide they had to leave you behind somewhere along the road. It was Finan who noticed the tears in your eyes, slowing his horse to come check on you. The kindness in his gaze broke your resolve, and he dismounted just in time to catch you as your last strength gave out and your knees buckled.

He put you up upon his own horse. Unfortunately you had never been much of a rider, and the wound had made you so groggy that Finan kept catching you sliding out of the saddle. There was nothing to be done but for him to climb up behind you, sharing the saddle and holding you up ‘round the waist. He was careful not to brush against your wound, or any other tender parts of your body. But some contact was inevitable, especially as your weakness led you to lean back against his broad chest. His thick beard brushed your forehead every time you relaxed your neck and let yourself be held up by your guardian angel. His cedar-and-spice scent permeated your fever dreams, bringing solace when nothing else did.

As you rode together Finan told you funny stories to keep you awake, and the sleepier you got the bawdier they became. Just to keep you laughing. Just to keep you safe.

The first time the band made camp along the side of the road, you shivered all night. Though these were men that seemed to revel in teasing each other, no one said a word when Finan took to sleeping right beside you, keeping you warm and monitoring your healing along the whole journey, as the moon waxed from new to full. He changed your bandages with soft and respectful hands, but a certain tenderness lingered in his eyes. You began to wonder if he was feeling the way that you were starting to feel, too.

On the last night you needed to sleep on the ground before arriving in your aunt’s village, Finan made sure your bandage was clean, and tucked in the furs and blankets tight around you. “You are healing well,” he said. “The wound should give you no trouble at all in another turn of the moon, if your people let ye keep resting.”

“I have never met them,” you confessed. “I am nervous about tomorrow. Will they be kind to me? Will they take me in? And if they do, how well will they treat me?”

Finan’s face was soft as he looked down at you in the flickering firelight. “They won’t be able to help but to love you,” he promised. “How could anyone not.”

His hand rose, as if to stroke your face. But he hesitated, and it hovered there in the space between you.

“You’ll be needing your rest tonight. We should arrive there by sunset tomorrow.” He pulled back, as if to rise and seek his own blankets.

“Finan,” you called out, soft but urgent.

He looked back down, hand still hovering awkwardly near to you.

“Please, just touch me.”

His eyes widened, like he could not quite believe what he was hearing.

“You have been so kind, and so respectful. Nothing but a perfect gentleman as you cared for me on this long journey.” You bit your lip, not sure what to say to make him stay, to keep tugging at this bond that seemed to have grown between you, that was now about to be lost. “But I want… It would be alright if…” He drew a little bit closer with your every word. “Just touch me,” you repeated.

The back of his fingers slid down your cheek, soft and slow. Like any other touch would be too intense, like you were in fact the angelic being, and he could be burned if he got too close.

When the heavens did not come crashing down at his daring, Finan’s face softened, and he let his fingertips trace along your brow. You leaned into his hand.

“God is cruel,” he said softly. Lightly, so lightly, his fingers stroked over the apple of your cheek. “To give me such a fleeting glimpse of a woman like you.”

A sudden desire stirred in your breast, stabbing in painful disappointment just as quickly as you thought about the facts of your situations. “I can’t come with you, where you’re going.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Finan agreed, “and you are too weak. You must find a place with your mother’s people tomorrow. You must rest, and heal, while I follow my Lord Uhtred. We must part ways.” His gaze slid down to your mouth, and you could feel how much his fingers would like to trace your lips.

“One kiss,” you quietly begged. “One kiss to remember you by, my guardian angel.”

His lips were petal-soft, brushing once, twice, three times across your own. He pressed his forehead to yours so that he could look deeply into your eyes. “When our task is done, with my Lord’s permission, can I come back and court ye?”

 


	2. not giving up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt for the line "We are in this together – for better or for worse, do you hear me? I’m not giving up that easily.”

 

He said his name was Finan – the warrior with the reassuring smile and the accent that marks him from the Irish isles – and he’s the only thing keeping you from blacking out right now.

“Come on, darlin’, you’re gonna make it,” he says, patting your back with a heavy hand that’s landing somewhere between soothing and motivating. You can hardly bear to look around, the hellish orange light flickering from the ceiling making the familiar building feel like a nightmare. It’s still a struggle to catch your breath, even though Finan had killed the Dane that chased you in here. The acrid black smoke keeps getting caught in your lungs.

The building is burning. The whole town is burning.

“We can’t stay here,” Finan says, for the fourth time. You know that is true, but you just can’t seem to make your legs move you from where you lay huddled on the floor. It’s like your muscles have been replaced by water. He crouches so he can put his face right in front of yours. “You want to live, don’t you, lass?”

You press your lips together tight and nod through your terror.

“Alright, then just focus on me.” He uncurls one of your hands, clasping it into his own. “I’m gonna stay right with you, the whole time. But we have to move now. That roof is gonna collapse any minute.”

“The Danes—” you choke out.

Finan presses something heavy and metal into your hand. A knife, the edge long and wicked sharp. “You slash that at anyone that comes toward you.”

You shake your head. Just a farm girl, you don’t know the first thing about how to fight. Finan squeezes his hand around your own, forcing you to grip the thing. “When we come out, we’re gonna run straight for the docks. Don’t look around, just stay right behind me and we’ll run to my Lord Uhtred’s boat. You’ll be safe there.”

“It’s too far,” you say, but you find yourself stirring anyway, getting your feet under you.

“We’ll make it,” Finan promises. He switches his grip to your elbow, coaxing you to stay low under the smoke and scramble across the floor to the door.

A scream rips through the air outside your burning shelter, one that seems to foretell the fate that these marauding Danes have in store for you as well. “I can’t.” You shake Finan off, thinking you’d rather smother in here than face the horrors that await outside.

Finan grabs your chin, forces you to stare into his gleaming brown eyes. Reflected flames animate them, like he’s crackling with some otherworldly power. “I’m scared too. But I’ve gotten out of worse situations than this. We’ll get free of this one, too.” His thumb brushes across your cheek before he releases your face. “But you can’t hesitate. And you stay close. We are in this together – for better or for worse, do you hear me? I’m not giving up that easily. You are not going to die today.”

The edges of the world swim, and for a moment there is nothing but his face. You latch all the hope you have left onto him; allow no truth but his.

A loud crack emanates from the roof, and sparks shower all around you. You grip the knife tighter and nod, heart still in your throat but blood finally pumping, invigorating all your limbs. “All right. I’m ready.”


End file.
